A Taste of Domesticity
by brittana03nayamorris
Summary: How do Santana and Rachel deal with the little things that come along with living together? Based off of the domesticity meme stuff on tumblr
1. Who uses all the hot water

**So, with all the domesticity meme stuff going around on tumblr lately, I decided to take a swing at it but turn it into more of a story than a meme. All of these take place in the same universe. Some of the meme prompts will combine, while some of them will get their own chapters. They're also in no particular order. If you're not sure of what the hell I'm talking about, check my profile. I have them listed so you know what's going on. **

**So for now, enjoy and review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, Faberrittana would be canon and the idea of Finchel would be erased from history.**

"**RACHEL!** Get the fuck out of the shower! You've been in there for like 30 minutes and I gotta get to work!" Santana yells through the bathroom door.

"Oh please. You took a shower last night before you went to bed," Rachel yells back.

"Well yeah. Yes I did. But last I checked, right after I took said shower, my beautiful yet randomly horny girlfriend decided that she wanted all up on this so that shower was for nought." At that, the shower stops and Santana breathes a sigh of relief. A few minutes pass before the door opens to reveal a towel clad Rachel with dripping hair and a BIG smile on her face. "What's with the Joker smile, Berry?"

"Did you just say 'for nought'"

"Yes." Rache's smile only grows bigger. "Would you stop that? You're creeping the hell out of me." Rachel expression doesn't change. "Look, just because I tend to cuss like a sailor in the Persian Gulf and have a bad habit of 'speaking ghetto' as you say, doesn't mean that I'm incapable of college level vocabulary. I did go to law school after all." Instead of responding, the singer wraps her arms around the Latina's neck and pulls her down into a slow, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting.

"What was that for?" Santana says, trying to reintroduce her lungs to oxygen.

"You're just so damn sexy when you try to argue something," Rachel says, playing with hairs on the back of her girlfriend's neck.

"Is that why you always sexually molest me after every case I let you come to?" Rachel nods and the Latina mouth curls into her yet to patented smirk. "Good to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I might have to start making arguments about random shit from now on."

"For the sex?" The Latina leans down and captures the smaller girl's lips in her own.

"So totally for the sex," she whispers, pulling away. "Now get the hell out of my way because I gots a shower to take and there best be hot water left or Imma go,"

" 'All Lima Heights on my ass'?" Rachel asks, rolling her eyes.

"Damn right. And don't you forget it."


	2. Favorite nonsexual activity

**A/N: sorry for the late update gang. Finals are killing me. But I really love all of the reviews and alerts I received for this story. I really appreciate the praise and /or criticism. So, finals are almost done and I'll have all break to relax with family and just write. So expect updates every coupla days. And since it's been a minute, I made this one a bit longer than the last one. **

**So, enjoy and don't forget to review. **

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to Glee. If i did, Naya, Brad and the fans would write the show and Santana would be paired with all of the girls at some point because face it; she makes any ship hot.**

**Chapter 2**

_"Rach?"_ Santana yells from outside her shared bedroom door.

_"What?"_ Rachel replies from the other side.

_"Why the hell are we doing this anyway? We already have a creative,"_ she puts up air quotes,_ "'girlfriends bonding time' activity. Why can't we just keep going to that art class of yours?"_

_"Because, honey, you spent the entire time painting breasts with faces on them saying things like, 'this class sucks. Suck on me instead'."_

_"Hey, it took me ten minutes to come up with that little nugget of gold, my little leprechaun,"_ Santana says, laughing. _"But, hey, the teacher did say to paint our favorite things."_

_"And you thought breasts would be appropriate?"_

_"Well it was either that or a vagina,"_

_"Omigod."_

_"But I didn't know how to draw one."_

_"You're disgusting."_

_"But you'd think that with how many times I've seen one, I'd know how to paint one but what can you do?"_ She shrugs and walks away from the door and over to the kitchen table where she picks up a DVD box cleverly titled, "Yoga 101". She reads through the list of moves on the back before asking, _"Rachel, what the hell is a 'downward facing dog' anyway?"_

_"Seriously?"_ Rachel asks as she exits their bedroom. She's dressed in black tank top and a pair of black biker shorts. _"You seriously have no idea what it is?"_

_"Am I supposed to?"_

_"Santana Lopez has no idea about yoga? Honey, you were a cheerleader. Wasn't yoga a like a major part of your training to keep fit and flexible?"_ Rachel says, picking up two purple yoga mats and spreading them out on the floor next to each other.

_"First of all; yoga isn't the only way a person can stay fit and flexible,"_ the Latina says, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

_"That's crude,"_ Rachel chastises from over her shoulder.

_"But true. Second, Coach Sylvester didn't let us do yoga because she said that only pansies like gay men and middle-aged women do yoga."_

_"Well, we're gay, we're close to middle-aged and we're women so we're doing it."_

_"I'm twenty-six. Don't you dare age me. Twenty-six is nowhere near middle-age and does this,_" Santana gestures to herself,_ "look like the body of a damn middle-aged woman?"_

_"No baby. No it does not. Now will you put that DVD box down and get your ass over here. I promise it'll be fun and productive."_ Santana rolls her eyes and sighs. The things she does for her woman.

Walking over to the mats spread out on the floor in front of the living room couch, Santana watches as her girlfriend leans forward with both hands extended until they reach the ground and her ass pointed in the air. _"See, this is how you do the downward facing dog,"_ Rachel says, turning her head slightly to look at the Latina who, of course, is smirking.

_"And this,"_ she slaps Rachel square in the ass, _"is the best view ever."_ Rachel's jerks upward and turns quickly to face the Latina.

_"Dammit Santana! That hurt, "_she says rubbing her ass with the biggest pout on her face that Santana's ever seen.

_"Sorry baby but seriously, why haven't you showed me this before now? Because, well, just, damn. Have I told you how much I love your ass?"_

_"Yes. A lot actually and that's why I take classes without you because I knew you'd spend your time either checking me out or finding some way to turn everything in the class into a sexual innuendo like commenting on how my superior flexibility is good for the bedroom."_

_"Ya damn right. I totally just found my new favorite non-sexual activity."_

_"I swear Santana; sometimes I think you only love me for my body."_

_"Sometimes? Well damn. And here I thought I was making it quite obvious that I only love you for your body."_

_"SANTANA!"_ The taller girl laughs and dodges the smaller brunette's attempted punch to the arm. Her laugher stops abruptly and she stands at the opposite side of the room with her hands on her hips.

_"Hold the hell on. Did you say you have superior flexibility?"_

_"Well yes. I know you used to be a cheerleader and all but I've been taking yoga classes since I was about eight years old so I think my flexibility surpasses yours."_

_"Whatever you say, Lil' D."_ The small brunette smiles and feels her chest swell when she hears her favorite term of endearment. At first having her girlfriend call her a "little Diva" kind of annoyed her but after she found out Santana called her that with no malice at all, she grew to love it. _"So, just out of curiosity, how flexible are you really?"_ Rachel looks at the Latina and sees that certain look in her eyes that never fails to appear when they're alone together for more than 5 minutes. She quickly realizes that yoga isn't going to happen today.

_"Enough,"_ she says, trying to maintain the right amount of ambiguity.

_"Well I can think of another thing that can test that theory and scientists have proven that it's a damn good workout."_ Santana puts her hands softly on Rachel's shoulders and slowly guides her into a sitting position on the couch.

_"I thought you said that yoga was your new favorite non-sexual activity,"_ Rachel asks, as the taller brunette moves to straddle her hips; effectively pinning her down into the couch.

_"Well true. Yoga is my favorite non-sexual activity because hopefully, if my own girlfriend would stop fuckin' cockblockin' with all her damn talking, will lead to my favorite sexual activity."_

_"You are insatiable, you know that?"_ Rachel puts her hands firmly on either side of her girlfriend's hips and gently squeezes.

_"You love it. So, is that a yes?"_ Instead of responding, Rachel just fists Santana's tank top and pulls her into a searing kiss. She knew that introducing Santana to yoga would benefit them both and who cares if they actually follow that DVD? It's not like they can't try some of the poses in another context all together. Yep. Challenge accepted.


	3. Who leaves their stuff around

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait gang. Finals, the start of break, and Christmas shopping have got me pretty busy. But I'm back and the show goes on. I had a lot of fun writing this one so hopefully you like it too.**

**A/N 2: Why am I so excited about Naya being the spokeswoman for Proactiv? Like, I will get to see her randomly appear on my television, on any channel, at any time of the day? Score**

**A/N 3: Naya in Santa Baby. Do i even have to say anything after that? **

**But anyway, enjoy and review**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

Chapter 3: Who does the cleaning and who leaves their stuff around?

When Santana works 14+ hour days like this, when she gets home all she wants to do is change into her sweats, kick back with a nice glass of red wine and watch whatever nonsense television is on at the time until she falls asleep. What she doesn't want to do is listen to Rachel bitch about all of her stuff lying around the condo. **"Santana Marie Lopez!"** Oh here we go again. "How many damn times have I told to pick up your underwear from the bedroom floor?"

"Like probably fifty times. Give or take fifty,_"_ Santana answers, rolling her eyes. She hadn't made it two feet into the condo before she ran into "Hurricane" Rachel. Normally, the budding Broadway star was more than happy to pick up around the place, especially on days she didn't have to work and Santana has a full schedule. But today, for some reason, anything not where it's supposed to be is deemed catastrophic and from the way that she's been yelling at the Latina for the better part of twenty minutes; Santana's sure she might not make it out of this disaster alive.

If she had been a man, she'd think that with all the sex that she and Rachel had been having in the past month or so, Rachel would have finally gotten knocked up and her irrational behavior could easily be attributed to mood swings. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the right equipment to get a woman pregnant so that isn't an option. Hurricane Rachel is wreaking havoc and she's defenseless against it.

"Was that sarcasm in your voice?" Rachel says, emerging from the bedroom with a small pile of seemingly dirty clothing.

"No baby. That wasn't sarcasm in my voice," Santana groans.

"Oh and was that sass? Because it sure sounded like sass." Rachel takes the small pile into the washroom and angrily tosses it into the washing machine. Santana watched her as she aggressively pours in the laundry detergent and slams the door shut. On her way back to the bedroom, she trips over the pair of black stilettos that Santana had taken off when she walked in. The look on her face when she recovers is all the confirmation the Latina needs. She is **so totally fucked**. "And how many fucking times have I told you to not leave your fucking shoes by the fucking door? Because if I trip over another one of your fucking shoes, I'm going to fucking lose my mind!"**SHIT**. When Rachel drops f-bombs like that, something is bothering her more than just a semi-messy condo. Something bad happened and Santana, for her own life's protection, needs to know what that thing is.

"Rachel. Baby," she says, tentatively approaching their bedroom door.

"Santana, don't you fucking baby me," the smaller woman snarls.

"Okay. Rach, what's going on?" Santana cautiously enters the room, watching her girlfriend manically scramble about collecting all of her things from the floor.

"Nothing. I just want to have a damn clean home. Is that too much to ask?"

"Right. Sorry bout all my shit lying around. You know how I get when I'm in the middle of a case. I'll be better from now on. But are you sure that's all this is about? Or is there something else?"

"Like what?" Okay, Rachel's giving her absolutely no insight into the reason behind her current furious state. Time to cover all the bases.

"Did something happen at work today?"Rachel shakes her head. _"_Okay. Did someone piss you off? Like the coffee guy not remembering your exact order again or some shit like that?" Rachel, again, shakes her head_. _"Well then. Hmmm." Santana's truly at a lost. She leans her back against the door frame and crosses her arms. You'd think that after 6 years of dating, she'd have figured Rachel Berry out but no. She's just as much of an enigma as she was in high school. Only hotter.

After some thought, she comes up with an idea. It's a long shot because she's pretty sure she already knows the answer but why not try in order to gain some peace in her life. "Rach, baby, are you by chance PMSing?" she asks, carefully. Rachel turns around quickly and throws a pair of boy shorts at Santana.

"No, you jackass! I'm not PMSing!" she snaps.

"Then what then?"

"You really want to know why I'm upset?"

"Well yeah. For the sake of the rest of my body and psyche that hasn't been assaulted by you yet, I think I deserve to know."

"Fine." She throws her arms up in surrender, walks over to her girlfriend at the door frame and stops in front of her. "Quinn's place is neater than ours," she says before entering the living room. Wait, **qué****? **Santana stands still, blinking for a few moments trying to process everything. She finally tears herself away from the doorframe and joins Rachel in the living room. "Um, Rachel. I don't wanna be rude or sound like an insensitive ass or some shit like that but what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I went to Quinn's apartment today after work,"

"Yeah. You texted me about that."

"Well, her place is practically spotless. I mean, you could literally eat off of every surface. Not a bit of dust anywhere. So when I came back home and saw this squallor; I realized what huge slobs we are. Well, you are."

"Um, perdón pero qué? Me a slob? Rachel, leaving a few small articles of clothing on the bedroom floor is not being a slob."

"But Quinn's was spotless, Santana. SPOTLESS," Rachel whines.

"That's because she is a lonely, spinster bitch with nothing to do with her life but clean. Me and you, my young Broadway star, have more important things to do with our time."

"But it was so nice," Rachel pouts and Santana can't help but find it absolutely adorable. Normally Rachel's irrational, anal-retentive, neurotic, slightly psychotic behavior is irritating beyond belief. But boy can that woman pout when she doesn't like something or doesn't get her way and Santana can't possibly resist it. Hasn't been able to for the entire six years they've been dating.

"Mi estrella," she starts, walking over to the pouting woman and putting her arms around her waist. "Yes, Quinn's place is probably cleaner than ours,"

"It is," Rachel interrupts and Santana rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Look, I understand that Lady Fabray's tiny apartment is practically pristine compared to our 2 grand a month condo but if you **ever** yell at me like that over something this small again, I will,"

"Go all Lima Heights on my ass?"

"Well, I was gonna say kill you but why not stick with my usual catch phrase? Now are you done with this nonsense about Quinn's place versus our place?"Rachel puts her arms around Santana's neck and nods. "Okay good. Because today's crazy almost made me miss the usual crazy."

"I'm not crazy."

"And I'm not from Lima Heights."

"But you're not."

"Well, I grew up with mi abuela and she lives in Lima Heights so it counts."

"Whatever. But I'm still not," Santana cuts her off by crashing her lips on to hers. After about a minute, they both pull away; gasping for air.

"What was that for?" Rachel asks between pants.

"After all the shit you've put me through the last hour and some change, especially when I'm supposed to be relaxing, I deserves me some lady lovin'." Rachel smiles and brings her hands down to massage her girlfriend's neck.

"You're probably right."

"I'm always right. Now couch, bed, floor or counter?" Rachel looks about the condo at each option.

"All of them," she finally states, with a hint of mischief in her voice.

"Good girl." The Latina drops her hands from Rachel's waist, kisses her briefly then saunters towards the kitchen.

"But wait," Santana stops, turns around slowly and looks at the singer with darkened eyes. "One more thing."

"What now, baby girl?"

"Can we at least try to keep the place a little cleaner from now on?"

"Counter-productive."

"Why so?"

"Because the way we tend to fuck like rabbits anytime, anywhere and on any surface, the place wouldn't stay clean for long," Santana says smirking before hopping onto the kitchen counter.

"You're incorrigible."

"You love me."

"Have no plausible idea why though. None what so ever."


	4. Heat's out again? Who do you call?

**A/N: Hello all. First off, thanks for all the reviews, story alerts and favorites. I really appreciate them and will continue to make this story as enjoyable as possible. Second, I changed the rating just to be safe because of Santana's foul mouth. Third, so, this is sorta late but with Christmas, gifts, family time and whatnot; I didn't have alotta computer time. But I wanted to do one with our favorite girls on Christmas eve so this was created. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review**

**A/N 2: Is it January 17th yet?**

**A/N 3: Also, I haven't taken Spanish in a few years so if I messed up somewhere and you know the proper term or spelling, let me know. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wish I did but I don't -_-**

Chapter 4: Who calls the super/landlord when the heat stops working?

"Berry, get it together," a short, round Italian man yells from the front of the stage. "We need to have this dance number down before next week or we won't be able to open on time." He paces back and forth as the dancers listen attentively while trying to catch their breaths.

"Murray, it's Christmas Eve," Rachel says between deep breaths, "I understand that we need to get the choreography down and we… I'm trying my best but don't you think that we should give it a rest and pick back up after Christmas? I mean, this is the last and the hardest number we have to learn and trying to drill it into us in only 3 hours is not sufficient. It needs to sink in and a few days rest will do us all and the production of this entire musical a great deal of good. Now, what do you say about that?" Murray looks at the ragged, tired and flushed faces of his dancers, rolls his eyes and sighs.

"You're probably right, Rachel," he says, "Take a few days off and we'll pick back up on the second. Now get out of my sight. Merry Christmas, happy holidays and all that crap." He throws his hands up in surrender before walking off the stage.

"Thanks Rachel," a young blonde dancer says, patting her on the shoulder.

"No problem, Calvin. Now get out of here and go be with your family," she says pulling him into a quick hug.

"Will do. Happy holidays and tell that hot, Latin spitfire of yours I said Merry Christmas." She laughs.

"Okay. I will. And I'll be sure to tell her you called her a 'hot, Latin spitfire'. She'd enjoy the ego boost."

"Probably. Have a good night, Rachel."

"Bye Calvin."

####

After changing into a pair of black skinny jeans, gray knee high boots, gray turtle neck, black pea coat and a black beret, Rachel makes her way to her red Prius in the theatre parking lot. Once inside, she hears a familiar ringtone coming from her purse. "Hello sweetie," she answers cheerfully, "I'm on the way home right," she starts before she hears an undistinguishable slew of Spanish being shouted from the other end. "Okay Santana, you know I can only understand half of what you're saying when you speak Spanish. Now I don't mean to be rude or against your native language or anything but can you please speak English?" Rachel says, setting her phone on the center counsel and activating her Bluetooth.

"_Lo siento. But what I said was the fucking heat stopped working again!_" she hears the Latina yell.

"Okay. So just call Carl again," Rachel says, calmly.

_"I did but he didn't answer. Why the hell do we have a fucking landlord anyway? I pay,"_

"Ahem," Rachel coughs.

_"We pay 2 fucking grand a month for this place yet some damn stooge controls our electricity. What the fuck is that about anyway? I swear,"_ and cue another string of incomprehensible Spanish.

"Honey, calm down okay? I'll be home in less than ten minutes so I'll call him then."

_"You better because if I have to spend another two fucking days without heat, someone will be catching the wrath."_

"Alright. Be there soon."

####

When Rachel walks into her condo, she sees exactly what she expects to see: her girlfriend pacing back and forth in front of their Christmas tree muttering an assortment of Spanish and English expletives with the occasional non-curse word. She drops her keys into the dish by the front door, hangs up her coat and prepares herself mentally to deal with her hot, Latin spitfire. "Santana," she proceeds cautiously to the Latina. "Sweetie. Honey. Where's the phone?"

"En la sofá," Santana huffs; still pacing. Rachel spots the thin black phone on their cream colored sofa. She picks it up, presses number 2, puts it up to her ear, and waits. _"Hello?"_

"Hello Mr. Edwards. This is Rachel Berry from 413."

_"Oh hello Miss Berry. Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Hanukkah."_

"Why thank you. Same to you."

"Is that that stupid, dumbass landlord of ours?" Santana yells from the other side of the room.

"Yes honey. Now hush so I can deal with this." Santana scoffs and crosses her arms.

"No give me the phone. I wanna talk to that jackass." She crosses the room and reaches for the phone but Rachel swats her hand away.

"No, you don't. Because all you're going to do is curse him out and that won't get us anywhere."

"Oh please. That little fucker deserves anything I have to say for not answering me when I called the first four times. Now give me the damn phone," she reaches again but this time Rachel sprints to the opposite side of the room into the bathroom where she shuts the door and locks it before the Latina can catch her. "Yes, hello Mr. Edwards. Sorry about that. Santana's been quite irritated today so I had to calm her down," she says.

_"That's alright. So why is it that you call today?"_

"Well, I hate to bring this up on Christmas Eve but the heat has gone out again."

_"Again?"_

"Yes, again."

"Yes** AGAIN!**" she hears Santana shout from outside the bathroom door. Who knew that she'd still be waiting by the door? Hopefully she didn't hear the stuff about… "And I'm not irritated Rachel," Maybe not. "I'm pissed as hell and I want my damn heat on! I don't pay 2 grand a month for it not to be working."

_"Is Miss Lopez yelling something?"_

"Just her usual bitching. So you think you can get it fixed before tomorrow?"

_"Anything for you, Miss Berry. I'll be right up."_

"Thank you."

"Thank you? Why are you thanking that bastard? What the hell are you thank you-ing for?" Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs.

"I will see you soon," she says kindly before ending the call and opening the bathroom door. She finds a frowning, arms crossed Santana right outside.

"So?" she asks.

"He's coming up now to fix it," Rachel answers.

"Really?"

"Yes. See what happens when you're nice to people."

"Too much energy. It's so much easier for me to bitch at them. It's more natural."

"I'm sure it is."

####

"Hurry the hell up, Carl," Santana yells from down the hall at the older, black man adjusting the gauges on the heater. Rachel looks at her and then at the man.

"Don't listen to her," she reassures, "she just wants to have the heat near desert temperatures come Christmas morning."

"Why is that?" Carl asks.

"I'm not 100 percent sure. Something about it reminding her of spending Christmases with her abuela who apparently kept a hot home."

"Well I best hurry up then."

"No. You take your time. She can wait. I'd rather you take your time and fix everything then rush and it breaks again."

"How are you two possibly together? I mean, I don't mean to step out of line or anything but you're so nice and she's sorta a…well…a"

"A bitch?"

"Exactly."

"Trust me; she embraces it." The old man laughs. "But I have my moments too. Especially in high school. Surprisingly, we've both calmed down a bit since then. It's kinda just how we work. A constant push and pull. A relationship full of love with just a hint of psychosis. It's still hard for me to believe that after everything, I'd fall desperately in love with Santana Lopez."

"Well Miss Berry, that's how love is. It shows up when you least expect it and usually sorta smacks right in the face."

"She actually did that once," Rachel says, chuckling softly.

"Wow. Is Miss Lopez psychotic?"

"Just a bit over zealous and outspoken sometimes but not psychotic."

"Rachel will you stop talking to the man so he can finish fucking fixing the fucking heat before I turn into a damn icicle in here!" the merrier two of the three laugh to themselves.

"Okay. Maybe a little psychotic," Rachel says. "Anyway, how much longer?"

"All done actually," Carl says, closing the about box.

"Really?"

"Really. Happy holidays."

"Thank you, Carl. And same to you and the missus." He nods, grabs his work bag and exits the condo. But not before shouting, "Merry Christmas Miss Lopez!"

"Yeah whatever, Carl. Feliz Navidad and all that shit," Santana says, finally emerging from her study room. "So is our heat fixed? Because if not, I'm going to," before she can finish, Rachel grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her down into a bruising kiss. Never one to resist one of Rachel's 'shut the hell up' kisses, Santana places her hands on the diva's hips and melts into the familiar warmth of Rachel's body pressed up against hers. "The heat is fixed," Rachel pants, pulling away slightly.

"After that, not sure I really need it," Santana whispers, looking through hooded eyes."

"So, it's Christmas Eve."

"Sí."

"And the heat's fixed."

"Sí."

"We both don't have work."

"Sí."

"So do you want to be naughty or nice? And pick wisely because Santa is judging."

"Doesn't he already know?" She backs Rachel into the living room, softly singing into her ear, "**_I've been an awful good girl, Santa Baby. And hurry down the chimney tonight_**." Rachel, taking cautious steps backwards, listens to the melodious sound of her girlfriend's voice as she's guided to their Christmas tree. She's spun around so that she's facing the tree with Santana standing behind her, pressed comfortably against her back.

Even with the lights on in the room, the tall, lit green tree is still impressive. Rachel looks about the multi-colored giant, taking in all of the ornaments they had spent the last week putting up. Every ornament has a story and all share a piece of their life together. But something stands out under the tree. A present that wasn't there when she left for work in afternoon. A small box wrapped in snowman wrapping paper topped off with a red bow. "Santana?" she says in barely a whisper.

"Mhum," the Latina mummers, resting her chin on the shorter girl's shoulder.

"What's that?" she points at the small box.

"**_Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing; a ring. And I don't mean by phone_**," Santana sings. "Go open it."

"But it's not Christmas yet?"

"And you're Jewish so you're allowed to break the rules. So," she lets go of the smaller brunette, "hop to it before I change my mind." She pats Rachel on the ass for extra encouragement. Rachel squeals and smiles at the playful move and does exactly as told. She kneels down, grabs the present and as soon as she frees it from its wrappings; she gasps. "Come here, Lil' D," Santana says, taking her by her free hand and pulling her to her feet. "Dame," she commands and Rachel responds by handing the black box to the other woman.

"Santana," Rachel begs, not even trying to hide the anxiety in her voice.

"**No**. My turn to talk." Rachel nods. "Okay, so most people around this point usually have some big speech about how much the other person means to them, how much they love them, and how they want to spend the rest of their lives with them. But I'm not going to say all that shit now. Wanna know why?" Rachel nods. "Because I plan to tell you all these things everyday for the rest of our lives if you'd,"

"**Absolutely!**" Rachel exclaims.

"Calmate, hermosa. I didn't even say it yet."

"But I already know and of course I'll marry you, Santana."

"Really?"

"No shit. Now give me, give me," Rachel practically yells while flashing her left ring finger.

"Wow, I really have corrupted you, my little potty mouth," Santana says laughing. She takes out the diamond ring out of the box and slipping it into the awaiting digit. Smiling, Rachel smiles widely and tackles her now fiancé onto the couch. "This is the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten!" Rachel screams before leaning down and capturing Santana's lips in hers.

**Happy belated Christmas everyone!**


	5. Do you want sausage on your pizza?

**Hey gang! Been a bit, huh? Well for the wait, I made this one significantly longer and more special than the others. First though, thank you's. Thanks for all of the reviews, favorite/story alerts and whatnot. Means a lot and it's actually helped me continue with this despite all the school work I have to do. Call it my lovely Pezberry stress reliever. Anyway, Gleek1990 suggested I give you all a little background to how our lovely ladies got together in this universe. So I took the bait and hopefully you enjoy my version of the birth of Pezberry.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, places or clothing lines mentioned in the story. If I did; I would be hella rich but I digress.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: What do they order from take out?<p>

"Rachhh, baby. I'm hungry," Santana whines from the living room couch that she's been lounging on all day. Both she and Rachel have the day off and when she woke up early this morning (habit), she was content to spend the entire day on the couch in a pair of black Betty Boop pajama pants (Christmas gift from Puck which gained him a smile and a smack to the back of his head), a red camisole, black rimmed glasses and hair out and down on her shoulders. "Okay, my fine fiancé," Rachel says, emerging from the kitchen staring at the engagement ring on her left hand.

"How long are you going to keep staring at that thing? Until it changes color?" Santana asks.

"Nope. Just until it stops being so beautiful." Rachel then skips over to the couch, kneels down in front of her fiancé, cups the Latina's face and pulls her into a quick kiss. "Or at least until you stop being so beautiful," she says pulling away and standing up.

"Well then I guess you're gonna be staring at it for a while 'cause I's plans on staying hot and sexy even into my decrepit years," Santana states, leaning back and putting her legs up in the couch.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you'll be turning the heads of all the senior citizen men with their cataracts."

"Hey!" Santana yells, tossing a pillow at the now laughing girl. For about a minute, Rachel stands in the middle of the room practically doubling over from laughter. "Are you quite done, you ass?" Santana asks, crossing her arms.

"Al…almost," the smaller girl says between gasps to calm herself down.

"Almost? Oh okay. Well how about I spend a few days with Trouty Mouth and Wheezy?" Rachel's eyes widen. "I mean, I'm sure they wouldn't mind a live-in babysitter from little Kenny. 'Cede did mention the other day that they wanted some alone time away from the little snot nose so that would give them that opportunity and you some time alone to think about your rude behavior." Rachel instantly stops laughing.

"You wouldn't?" She asks, trying to sound challenging but it comes out more like begging.

"Try me."

"But I had such big plans for you tonight," she says seductively approaching the couch and getting down on her knees in from of the couch.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Santana deadpans. Not in the mood to keep playing Santana's little mind game, she concedes. Getting up and walking to the kitchen, she picks up the phone and says, "So, you want food or not?"

"Now food will get you everywhere," Santana says, perking up.

"Okay so what do you want to eat?" Rachel asks again.

"Food." Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs. Clearly, free and relaxed Santana is also rude and lazy Santana.

"What kind smartass?"

"Strike two. Oh Berry, one more of those and you'll be on a Santana-free diet for a week."

"Whatever Santana. So takeout?"

"Pizza. No wait," Santana pauses to think for a moment, "Nope. Definitely pizza. Sausage to be exact."

"Santana Marie Lopez, must I remind you that I'm vegan?"

"I've never forgotten. I'm not Finnocence." Rachel rolls her eyes. "Now Rachel Berry aka the future Mrs. Lopez, we can get two pizzas. You can get that new egg-free, tomato shit one and I can get the sausage. Well actually, extra sausage. Which by the way is the only time I want sausage anywhere near my mouth. "

"See now you're just trying to irritate me."

"Don't I always?" Santana says with a smug grin.

"And I said yes because?"

"Because you love me." Rachel again, rolls her eyes. She's convinced that she does it at least fifty times a day living with this woman.

"I don't know why sometimes."

"Because I complete you."

"Beg your pardon?" Rachel questions.

"Well I calm your crazy and bring out your passionate side while you just calm me the fuck down and manage to bring out the sensitive side of me that I try to hide." Rachel is taken aback by Santana's sudden and out of nowhere sincerity. But then again, when is she not surprised by her fiancé's random acts of affection and endearing words. "How can you be so incredibly crass one minute then insanely romantic the next?"

"Because I'm me. Amazingly multidimensional."

"Wow. That's a million dollar word," Rachel teases.

"Hey, I passed the Bar for a reason. And you've been rubbing off on me with all your fancy talk since that study session back in freshman year."

"The night you admitted you liked me?"

"Yup. That was also the same night you kissed me."

"Um, if I remember correctly you kissed me first," Rachel corrects

"No. I'm pretty sure you were the one who hopped on me on the couch in your dorm lounge."

"Oh, I think you must've had one too many nights without sleep at the law firm because you're memory is failing you."

"Uh, no. Yours is baby girl. Because I definitely remember you kissing me first." Instead of arguing further, Rachel puts both her hands up and surrenders.

"Fine. The details of that may be a little hazy. I'll give you that. But you know one thing I do remember clearly?" She puts the phone of the kitchen table, walks back into the living room, climbs on top the Latina and snuggles up into her chest. Santana in return, wraps one arm around Rachel's waist and brings the other hand to caress the side of her face. Rachel sighs into the touch. "What's that Lil' D?" Santana says softly.

"The day we met up again after graduation," Rachel says.

"I remember that day," Santana says, using her thumb to brush a loose strand out of her lover's face.

_*Flashback*_

_ "Rachel, hurry up. We're going to miss it," Kurt says walking swiftly hand in hand with Blaine through the busy streets of New York City. Rachel quickens her pace to catch up with boys._

"_Kurt. I have no idea why you dragged me here," she says, finally reaching the pair. _

"_Because since the breakup with Finn in October, like 8 months ago, all you've done all year is go to class, eat in the dining hall, study in the library and sleep."_

"_And what's wrong with that? It's college."_

"_It's boring." Rachel rolls her eyes. "Besides, it's summer now and unlike all of us regular college kids, you've decided to take summer classes. Like how boring is that?" _

"_Kurt, baby, Rachel's just trying to get through all her classes in the shortest amount of time," Blaine says. _

"_Exactly," Rachel whines._

"_Look, I get that but you need to get out of your little bubble and what better way than Pride?"_

"_While I'm sure that Pride in New York will most definitely be a very fun and memorable experience, I really should be back at the dorm doing my homework for Monday," Rachel complains._

"_Blaine, honey, can you help me out here?" The shorter boy stops, forcing the other two to stop as well. _

"_I guess Kurt's sort of right." Rachel sighs. "Getting out is important and I'm sure you're gonna have a lot of fun," the chipper boy says. They both are right. She does need to get out and have some fun. Besides, she hasn't been to Pride in New York yet so why the hell not?_

"_Besides, you may find a pretty girl to spend your free time with," Kurt throws in when they start walking again. Rachel tucks her hands into her jacket pockets and sighs._

"_I knew once I came out as bisexual to you guys, you would try to set me up," she says._

"_Girl, you should have known we would do that. Besides I'm not trying to set you up; I'm just bringing you around people of the same or compatible sexualities to give you a better chance at finding someone new," Kurt corrects. "Look, I care about Finn and all but I care about you too and you guys have been done for more than half a year. Time to move on girl. And since you have terrible taste in men,"_

"_Hey!" she swats at his arm._

"_I thought that maybe you could embrace the other side of the coin and see what happens." Instead of responding (mostly for lack of anything else good to say), Rachel just nods and the trio continues on their journey._

_When they finally reach the meeting area for the start of the parade, the first thing Rachel notices is the large number of people and booths around. Even though it's still quite early in the morning, all the people around seem to be smiling as they hurrying to and fro gathering equipment, setting up tents and preparing food. Rachel has to admit, it is nice to be out of the dorm and around people other than her classmates. "Rachel, we're gonna go to the bathroom at the pizzeria over there," Kurt says, pointing across the street. "Are you going to be fine while we're gone?"_

"_Of course," she answers. "There's nothing really going on yet and besides, how long will it take you to go to bathroom, right?"Kurt looks at Blaine, who blushes and turns his head away from the pair._

"_Riiight. Well we'll be back in a bit." The couple then runs across the street hand in hand, leaving Rachel standing alone on the corner. So instead of standing around aimlessly, Rachel decides to walk around a bit. But she barely takes a step before she walks right into an unknown girl. "Goddamn motherfucker, watch where the hell you're going!" The girl turns around quickly hell bent on destruction when Rachel says cautiously, "Santana?" The other girl looks at the smaller girl curiously with a raised eyebrow. She eventually relaxes and crossed her arms._

"_Rachel fucking Berry," she says raking her eyes up and down the other girl's body. Rachel feels so much smaller under the intense gaze of the Latina. She thought that she was past feeling insecure but in one look, Santana brought all those insecurities back. "Santana Lopez, who the hell are you yelling at?" Rachel looks at the blonde girl walking up next to them._

"_Quinn?" She says._

"_Oh, hey Rachel," Quinn says, smiling kindly. "Did you say hi to Rachel, S?" Santana glares at Quinn but when Quinn gives the other girl her much used and extremely effective bitch glare; Santana's face softens. "Yeah, 'sup Berry," she says unenthusiastically. _

"_Hello Santana," Rachel says in return. And that's when she notices the other girls' appearances. They both are dressed much more casually than they did in high school. Quinn is wearing a simple yellow sundress and white sandals while Santana opted for a pair of short blue jean shorts, a black Deréon shirt and black low top converses. To be honest, they both looked mesmerizingly beautiful. Light contrasting with the dark. After not seeing both girls since graduation, Rachel is awestruck. Who knew they could get prettier in such a short amount of time. "So ladies, what brings you to the Pride parade on this beautiful Sunday morning?"Rachel says, finally finding her words. The duo looks at each other before pointing to a table full of rainbow flags and trinkets before saying at the same time, "That." Rachel follows their fingers and bouncing through the stand is none other than Brittany S. Pierce. The bubbly girl is skipping down each row pointing at different items and squealing when she picked them up. Rachel can't help but smile at the girl's cheerfulness. "Brittany dragged me here," Santana says lacking her usual snappy energy._

"_And S. brought me for support," Quinn adds._

"_Well hey, you ladies are here now so you might as well try to have some fun," Rachel says, looking directly at Santana. _

"_Yeah, whatever," the Latina groans. "Where is there some food at this thing? Gays gotta eat too, right?"_

"_Santana! That's offensive," Rachel reprimands._

"_How the hell is that offensive, half pint? Did you forget that I'm capital L lesbian?"_

"_No, I didn't forget, I just…" Santana crosses her arms and stares at the shorter girl waiting for her to present a decent argument. "Oh never mind," Rachel says, backing down. "So, how's Columbia and Yale?" she asks._

"_It sucks," Santana state looking off into the mass of booths being set up in rows. Rachel rolls her eyes and when she looks Quinn's way; she notices her finishing her own eye roll while shaking her head._

"_Just ignore her oh so jovial attitude," Quinn says. "She's just upset that none of her classes challenged her enough."_

"_Really?" Rachel asks, finding it hard to believe that the slacker student of her past now hated to NOT be challenged._

"_Yeah. This may be hard to believe but S actually is pretty smart." __**Not hard at all,**__ Rachel thinks. __**She did mastermind the whole mono assault to expose Finn and Quinn. Only a criminal genius (or bio-terrorist) could come up with that. **__"She even maintained a 3.5 GPA all of high school."_

"_I never knew."_

"_Why would you know? Santana would rather you think she was some Lima Heights delinquent who didn't give a damn than the class A nerd she really is."_

"_I am not a fucking nerd," the Latina declares without even turning away from watching the other blonde skip towards the trio._

"_Oh sure. So you weren't complaining the other day about how boring your base classes were because they were and I quote 'too goddamn easy'?" the Latina grunts in disapproval. "Exactly." Rachel just watches the exchange between her friends with a smile on her face. She hasn't seen them in a few short months yet so much has already changed. Quinn seems a lot less uptight. Probably has something to do with being a small fish in a mighty big lake. Brittany seems like her usual bubbly, carefree self despite her breakup with Santana right before school started. Why? Brittany was going to UCLA for dance and Santana was going to Colombia for law so they parted on mutual terms to stay best friends to avoid the pressure of a long distance relationship. So far so good. _

_But something is different about Santana. Rachel can't seem to put a finger on it but she seems a bit less abrasive and bitchy and though she was quick to pick a name out for her out of her stash, there wasn't the usual harshness behind it. It actually seemed more like a nickname than a put down. Besides there's still time for her to change that. But Rachel has to admit, she does find the idea that the Latina is secretly intelligent (not to mention not so secretly beautiful) quite a turn on. "But to answer your original question, Yale is good," Quinn continues, attracting Rachel's attention again. "It was a lot of hard work for just freshman year but I think I can make it through if I stay focused."_

"_Which is hard to do with Emily around," Santana points out with a sly grin._

"_Santana!" Quinn scolds._

"_What?"_

"_Who's Emily?" Rachel questions._

"_Quinnie's new cutie unicorn," Brittany says finally reaching the other girls. "Hey Rachel." She pulls the confused girl into her arms and squeezing tightly._

"_Hello Brittany," Rachel says, hugging the blonde back. "You look lovely today."The long haired blonde smiles brightly._

"_Thanks. Quinn and San helped me pick it out special for today's biggest unicorn day." Rachel looks at the other girls for clarification on Brittany speak._

"_She means we helped her pick out her outfit for the rainbow parade," Santana deadpans. Rachel nods._

"_Okay but who's Emily and how is she a unicorn?" _

"_Emily is Quinn's girlfriend?" **Wait, what?** Rachel whips her head around at the short haired blonde who has her hand over her face. _

"_Quinn?" She takes her hand off her face. "Is this true?"_

"_She's not my girlfriend," she says confidently. "We've just been hanging out."_

"_Yeah sure, 'hanging out'. If by hanging out you mean 3 dates a week for the last 2 months, sleepovers on the weekends and making out all the fucking time," Santana says._

"_We do not," the short haired blonde argues._

"_Oh please Q. You two were sucking face when I came to pick you up this morning. I had to practically separate you both with a damn crowbar."_

"_Well it's better than all the times I caught you and Britt back in the day."_

"_Oh please. You should thank us. We're the reason you're gay today. I swear you caught us on purpose."_

"_You are ridiculous."_

"_But right."Rachel watches the whole exchange in disbelief. As the two former head cheerleaders battled back and forth, she turns to Brittany who is too busy playing with her rainbow colored teddy bear with two female signs and a male sign on the front, to really care. This meant that this argument is a common one. "Um, Britt?" Rachel hesitantly asks. _

"_Yes," the taller girl answers._

"_Quinn has a girlfriend?"_

"_Yup. She's Lebanese like San is now." Rachel almost faints. Quinn Fabray is **gay**? Like she always got that vibe from the girl back in high school but she was actually acting on it? When the hell did that happen?_

"_Do you mind me asking when she made that realization?"_

"_Well sometime after I went to California, I think. I heard from Tina who heard from Mike who heard from Puck who heard from Sam who heard from Mercedes that she and San were talking one day and were fighting about who had the bigger crush on you in high school." __**The hell?**__ "Then Quinn met Emily and fully realized that she's only into girls like San." Rachel's head is spinning.** Crush?** What crush?_

"_What? They used to like me?"She asked, still trying to make sense of the blonde's confession._

"_Of course. You didn't know?" Rachel shakes her head. "Well everybody did. I still do because you are totally hot. But that's why they were so mean to you. The Nile."_

"_Denial?"_

"_Yeah that."_

"_Interesting," Rachel says, raising an eyebrow while turning to face the still bickering pair._

"_Hey, there's Kurt and Blaine!" Brittany randomly shouts, pointing across the street. Rachel and the other girls turn around just in time to spot the couple emerging from around the corner. "Kurt! Blaine!" Brittany yells, furiously waving at the surprised couple. Blaine is the first to give a slight wave before they walk across the street to meet up with group. Santana and Quinn are the firsts to take in the appearance of the boys. Hair disheveled. Buttons undone. Belt loops missed. And Santana is pretty sure she sees a very small but very red love bite on the neck of the taller boy. "Hello ladies. Fancy seeing you here," Kurt says, pulling out his comb from this man bag. _

"_Well I'm not surprised to find you here, Pixie Prince," Santana says with a smirk._

"_Oh how I have not missed your humor, Satan," Kurt retorts._

"_Oh please. We have the exact same type of humor, Hummel. You just filter your insults to people you don't like. I say what I want whether I like you or not."_

"_Good to know. Quinn? Brittany? It's very nice to see you both," _

"_You too Kurt," Quinn says walking over to hug both the boys._

"_I want to hug too," Brittany says jumping on the couple as soon as Quinn is out of hugging distance. _

"_So Hummel. Hobbit Junior. Where were you guys?" Santana asks, crossing her arms. _

"_Umm…well…we…we…" Blaine stutters, looking at the ground nervously. Santana looks at Quinn before they both look at the pair._

"_We went to the pizzeria around the corner," Kurt steps in to save his stammering boyfriend._

"_But what took you so long? You were just going to the bathroom and boys never take 15 minutes to pee," Rachel says obliviously._

"_Well we grabbed a slice of pizza when we got out because Blaine was hungry," Kurt lies._

"_Oh and what type of pizza was that Blaine?" Quinn enquires, stepping closer to the shorter boy who still has his eyes glued to the ground. "Perhaps sausage?" His head then shoot up and the group can easily see the red in his face._

"_Perhaps extra sausage, huh Kurt?" Santana joins in. "Did you enjoy eating extra sausage with Blaine at the pizza place around the corner?" _

"_What's going on guys? I'm so confused," Rachel says._

"_Nothing Rachel. Now can we just drop it and get ready for the parade?" Kurt says._

"_Of course. Lead the way Pixie Prince slash lover of sausage," Kurt turns and glares at the Latina, "pizza." She and Quinn both laugh at the faces of the boys as they turn and start walking towards the booths. _

"_This is going to be a fun day," Quinn says, linking arms with Santana while Brittany links arms with Rachel behind them._

"_Yup, sure is," Santana says peering over her shoulder to look at the girls walking behind them._

"_You still like her, don't you?" Quinn asks._

"_Which one?"_

* * *

><p><em>Rachel is sitting on her floor lounge's couch reading an excerpt from Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter when her phone vibrates. She puts her English book down on the other side of the couch and checks the test message sender. SANTANA. Curious as to why the Latina was texting her after a week of no contact following the parade, Rachel opens the text and reads.<em>

**_From: Santana _**

**_U good wit early Am. Lit?_**

_Rachel stares at the phone for a few seconds before responding._

**_Sent: _**

**_I wouldn't say that I'm proficient but I do know quite a bit_**

_Which is true. She had taken three American literature classes during high school (one college level course) and two were in early American Literature. Plus she is good with retaining knowledge. After about a minute, her phone vibrates again._

**_From: Santana_**

**_ So yes?_**

_Rachel rolls her eyes. Of course she'd answer with two words. She quickly types a response._

**_Sent:_**

**_ Yes Santana. I'm pretty well versed in the subject._**

**_From: Santana_**

**_ Then y not just say yes?_**

_Growing irritated, Rachel decides to end the text conversation and calls the other girl. "What do you want Santana?" she groans into the phone._

_ "Well hello to you too, Berry," Santana says sarcastically. "Where are those manners that you always used to say I didn't have?"_

_ "Hello Santana. How are you?" Rachel says equally sarcastic._

_ "Fine thanks. And you?"_

_ "Was doing great until some girl decided to interrupt my studies by sending me cryptic messages."_

_ "What was so cryptic about me asking if you were good at American Lit? It should have been a simple yes or no answer but I forgot who I was asking." Rachel squeezes the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger and sighs._

_ "What exactly do you want Santana?"_

_ "So listen, I'm taking an Am. Lit summer class and I have an exam coming up and I sort of having trouble with it. I was in the neighborhood and,"_

_ "Santana, you're rambling."_

_ "Oh. Sorry. Sooo look, I was just wondering if you could help me study." Rachel can't believe her ears. Santana fucking Lopez was asking HER for help. Less than a year ago, the same girl on the phone was making fun of her clothing, nose, hands, face, personality, boyfriend, height and well, her very existence. Now she's going out of her way to get help from her? What is that about? "Yo Berry. Did you die?" Rachel then remembers that she is still on the phone._

_ "No, I'm still here," she says calmly._

_ "So you gonna help me or not? Because I didn't drive over here for no reason." Rachel mulls it over. By not helping Santana, she could finish her own studies and end her night headache free. But she could help her and by helping her, could spend time with her and get to know her all over after the last few months. Maybe even find out if what Brittany had said was true. "Sure. I'll help you," Rachel agrees._

_ "Cool beans. So where's your dorm? I've been driving around your campus for like 15 minutes and I'm totally confused."_

_ "Just tell me where you are and I'll guide you to me."_

_ "Oh really? You'll guide me to you, huh? Sounds like fun," Santana says suggestively. Rachel is so glad that Santana is on the phone instead of in front of her so doesn't see the red seep into her face._

_ "You know what I mean."_

_ "Yeah I know what you mean." How the hell can someone sound so damn sexy over the phone saying something so mundane? "Alright hobbit, lead the way."_

* * *

><p><em> It takes about a half a hour and several "where the hell are you taking me, Berry"'s for Rachel to successfully guide Santana to her dorm. "Alright, I'm downstairs," Santana says. "Open up Berry and let the big bad wolf in." Rachel's not sure if that statement was supposed to sound sexual (knowing Santana, probably) but either way, it doesn't stop her breath from catching in her throat. <em>

_ "Um, excuse me?"_

_ "Get your ass down here. People are giving me weird looks standing out here like a creeper." Rachel doesn't waste any time sprinting down the stairs from the second floor to the first floor._

_ When she gets to the door, Rachel is speechless. Yup. Definitely into girls because standing outside is the Latina with her hands clutching the straps of her book bag and impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. She's dressed in a pair of very short black PINK shorts, a tight pink tank top and the same black converses from Pride. Her hair is tied in a loose ponytail and is resting over her left shoulder. Rachel has to remember how to breathe when she opens the door to greet the Latina. "Well took you long enough," Santana snaps as soon as she walks into the building past the shorter girl. "I was waiting out there for 2 minutes too long. You live one the second floor. What the hell took you so long? Probably has something to do with those little hobbit legs of yours, huh?"The entire time Rachel can't fight the urge to check out the visually pleasing girl from behind. The problem is that she's so busy ogling the Latina's ass that she doesn't hear a word that the other girl's been saying. "Yo! Berry! What's with the silence tonight?" Santana looks at her curiously, raising a well manicured eyebrow. "What the hell is going on with you?"_

_ "Nothing," Rachel answers, finally snapping back to reality. "Come on. Let's get this over with."_

_ "Don't sound so eager but okay. Fine with me. Lead the way."Rachel takes the other girl's advice and scurries in front of the taller girl to guide her to the dorm's stairs. What she fails to miss is the smirk that firms on the Latina's face as soon as her back is turned._

_ "So, Frederick Douglass wrote his own autobiography after teaching himself how to read and write?" It's been a little over two hours and the girls have managed to get through most of the material Santana needs for her exam. Rachel is pleasantly surprised at how attentive Santana is to her. Now let's not get jump to conclusions and assume that she paid complete attention because that would be a lie. Santana did manage to stop every twenty minutes or so to get a snack or text or complain or go to the bathroom but all-in-all, mostly attentive. "Yes, exactly," Rachel says, reaching across the couch to get one of the carrot sticks she had gotten from the vending machine. _

_ "Awesome. Mad props to the dude for teaching himself English. My mom had to do that for me," Santana says from on the floor in front of the couch._

_ "What do you mean?"Rachel questions._

_ "What? You didn't know?"_

_ "Know what?"_

_ "Oh. Of course you wouldn't know. Well, I guess I better tell ya huh?"Rachel nods. "Well, as you may or may not know, my mom is first generation Dominican and in order to help make the transition easier, mi abuelo taught her English right off the boat. Or how ever the hell they got over here. Now mi abuela is very traditional and she didn't like the idea of her grandchildren losing their heritage by not knowing the language of our people, ya know? So since my parents were always working, I spent most of my childhood with her and she made sure that my very first language was Spanish. I didn't even learn English until I went to kindergarten." Rachel listens as the darker girl goes into a tale about how she was picked on for most of elementary school for being Latina and for having a thick accent. "Well, that's something we have in common," Rachel says, setting her English book on the table next to the couch and sliding onto the floor next to Santana._

_ "What you mean?"_

_ "Being picked on for being different."_

_ "Oh." Both girls turn away from each other and sit quietly in an awkward silence; unsure of what to say next. Eventually, Santana breaks the tension. "Sorry about all of that," she says so quietly that her words are only audible to the smaller girl sitting so close to her. _

_ "Yeah well, that was the system of the society at William McKinley High. Either you're the bully or the bullied. You were probably just tired of being on the bullied end of the spectrum."_

_ "That may well be but doesn't excuse me going out of my fucking way to tear at you personally."_

_ "No. No it doesn't." Rachel peers over and notices Santana's down cast eyes and slumped shoulders. "But that's in the past now. We're sort of friends now right?" she says, gently nudging the girl's shoulder with her own. _

_ "Yeah I guess."_

_ "You guess? I'm offended," Rachel says dramatically._

_ "Well you should be lucky I'm even considering it but since I don't really have the same rep I did in high school, I guess having a hobbit as a friend won't be so bad."_

_ "Oh thanks."_

_ "De nada."_

_ "And see there, since I wanted you to be my friend, I've clearly forgiven you so no bad feelings."Suddenly Santana's face drops and the mood in the room shifts. Rachel feels the change and it concerns her. "But why?" she asks in the way that Rachel's not sure she has ever heard her former tormentor use before. She sounds so insecure and timid. "Because that's what friends do."_

_ "But why forgive me after everything I've done?"_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "I mean, why not hold in all the anger and resentment and use it against the person messing with you at the right moment?" Rachel sighs. What's gotten into the girl that's gotten her so down all of a sudden? Cautiously she reaches for the Latina's free hand and takes it in her own. Santana tenses at the touch but doesn't pull away. And Rachel doesn't let go. "Forgiving isn't for them. It's for you so you don't become angry or resentful or vengeful."_

_ "But isn't it easier to be angry than to admit how you really feel?" Rachel is really confused now. First they were studying and catching up and the next Santana is asking about forgiveness and to Rachel; it's all quite disconcerting. Especially since this is the first deep conversation she has had with the girl since they've known each other. "Santana are you okay?" she asks gently caressing the tan knuckle with her thumb._

_ "Can you just answer the question? Isn't it easier to push your feelings down and be angry than to admit how you really feel?" Santana says, slowly picking her head up and staring straight forward. _

_ "Yeah. I guess it would be easier. But it's not healthier. At some point, all that anger will build up and take over. And if you're not really careful, you'll explode at the people you care about and scare them away."_

_ "But what if telling them how you feel scares them away regardless?" _

_ "Then you have to trust that if they really care about you; they'll come back."_

_ "A hella lot easier said than done."_

_ "What isn't?" Santana lets out a small chuckle and Rachel smiles, knowing that the tension in the room has slightly lifted. She gets her confirmation when Santana turns her head to face her and when their eyes meet; smiles. "You're something else, Rachel Berry. You know that?" she says, picking up both their hands and bringing them to rest on her lap._

_ "Yes. I've been told," Rachel gushes. "But it was both meant negatively and positively." "Well I mean it positively," the Latina says with a wink and Rachel doesn't even try to hide the blush that reddens her cheeks. "Alright, enough of all the sad talk. Let's finish this shit so I can drive back home before the creeps come out."_

_ "Sounds good," Rachel says taking her hand out of Santana's and hopping back onto the couch. She picks up English book from off the table and opens it. "Alright, back to Mr. Douglass."_

_ "My fucking hero Freddie," Santana says returning to her usual voice and energy._

_ "How incredibly disrespectful Santana," Rachel playfully scolds, lightly tapping the other girl on the head with her pencil and pulling back before Santana can grab it._

_ "Hey, watch it dwarf," Santana says, swatting the air. "Don't make me go all Lima Heights on your ass."_

_ "Empty threats, Santana. Empty threats." The Latina scoffs. "Besides, I'm sure you like my ass." Santana tilts her head back slightly to check out the body part in question._

_ "It's alright. But I know for certain that you like mine considering the way you were staring at it when I got here." Rachel gasps in disbelief (even though she knows it true)._

_ "I was not," she protests._

_ "Yes you were. But it's alright. Britt and Q do it all the time. I have a nice ass that should be observed."_

_ "True," Rachel agrees._

_ "So you're agreeing that I have a nice ass?" Santana looks up at her with those dark chocolate eyes mesmerizing enough to make you lose all focus on the rest of the world yet captivating enough that you don't care to turn away. And just beyond her eyes are her plump, oh so kissable lips. For years, Rachel has wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips slowing slowly transforming from a smirk to a soft, closed mouth smile. In this moment, she makes the decision to just go for it. What's the worst that can happen?_

_ So she leans down, keeping her eyes transfixed on the Latina's lips. She stops only inches from her face, waiting for approval. She gets it when the smile turns into a suggestive grin and she tilts her head slightly so that her lips line up with Rachel's. Taking that as her confirmation, Rachel leans down all the way and connects their lips. The contact is soft and brief but leaves both girls' heads reeling. Santana is the first to pull away. "Berry," she says, licking her lips._

_ "Yeah?" Rachel says trying to clear the fog in her head. She had just kissed a girl. And not just any girl. She had just kissed Santana Lopez. _

_ "No. Not you. Berry lip gloss. Should've guessed," Santana says with a slight laugh. _

_ "Actually, it's cherry flavored," Rachel corrects, once again sliding off the couch to the floor next to the Latina._

_ "So I just got a taste of Berry's cherry," Rachel's eyes widen, "lip gloss."Rachel breathes a sigh of relief which causes the other girl to laugh. _

_ "Oh shut up," Rachel swats at Santana's shoulder but is blocked when Santana grabs her wrist quickly and gently pulling her to face her. For a few moments, they sit there quietly, searching for the words to say in each other's eyes. Finally Santana breaks the staring contest. "So did you like it?"_

_ "Like what?" Rachel asks._

_ "Well you kissed a girl so did you like it?" Rachel realizes the reference to their performance back in high school and can't help but smile at the irony that them both singing it then has on their situation now. _

_ "Well, I have always been curious for you," she says, playing along._

_ "So is this what this is? Just curiosity?" Santana pulls away slightly and Rachel hears the disappointment in her voice. So instead of retreating, the smaller brunette frees her wrist from the Latina's hold, grabs her by the neck of her tank top and crashes their lips together. This kiss, unlike the first one, is less experimental and more skilled. More urgent. More passionate. Rachel is the first to deepen the kiss, running her tongue along Santana's bottom lip. The darker girl happily accepts the visitor and for a few minutes, the girls fight with their mouths for dominance but eventually, both concede to moving together. When air becomes a necessity, both girls pull away slowly, Santana leaving a final peck on Rachel's kiss swollen lips. "Woah," Santana says panting._

_ "I know," Rachel agrees._

_ "Now I see why Puckerman, St. Jackass and Finnocence were always chasing after you."_

_ "Why is that?"_

_ "Because you are so fucking good at that." _

_ "Well you're not so bad yourself Miss Lopez."_

_ "Well Miss Berry, I've had a lot of practice over the years." She pauses and looks at her hands (now resting on Rachel's thigh). "Look Rachel. I've been in relationships with friends before. A lot of friends actually. And they've all, except for Britt, ended badly because they were started for all the wrong reasons."_

_ "But Santana," Rachel says, looking at the girl curiously._

_ "No. Let me get this out." Rachel nods. "Now I like you. I have since like the 5__th__ grade. I remember the first day I started to like you. You came to school in that cute little navy blue jumper, knee highs and white Mary Janes. You're hair was in pigtails and I remember thinking, 'She's cute'. So anyway, that was also the day I got in trouble for kicking Puckerman in the nuts for pulling Britt's hair."_

_ "I remember that day. You got time out and had to sit in the corner for all of snack time. Which meant no snack," Rachel recalls with a smile._

_ "But you came over anyway with those big brown eyes and that patented Rachel Berry smile and offered me some of your snack. Even though I wasn't very gracious at first." _

_ "I recall your exact words were, 'Fuck off shorty. I don't want any of your damn baby apples'." Santana laughs. "I must admit you sure had quite a vocabulary for a ten year old."_

_ "Yeah. Blame MTV. But you persisted and sat with me anyway. And I knew then that I could like and marry a nice girl like you one day." _

_ "So then why torture me come high school?"_

_ "That goddamn hierarchy. Well that and with mi abuela always preaching about the verguenza that it is for someone to like someone of the same sex. So I couldn't give any clue to the way I felt about you. So remember when I asked if it was easier to be mad than to express how you really feel?"Rachel nods._

_ "So every slushy was you trying to bottle up your feelings?"_

_ "Pathetic, right?" Santana sighs. "And it was going good till me and Britt started messin' around and well, let's just say a lot of things were brought to the surface and made clear."_

_ "Like you liking girls?" _

_ "And me liking you. So if this is just curiosity for you let me know so I can keep it in mind to avoid either of us getting hurt." She shifts uncomfortably, eagerly waiting for an answer that Rachel takes her time to say. After about a minute of silence, Rachel grabs the Latina's face, bringing her bowed head up to meet hers in a gentle yet sensual kiss. Santana sighs into the kiss and the moment she tries to deepen it, the smaller girl pulls away. "I like you," she says against her lips. "And this isn't just an experiment for me."_

_ "Alright," Santana whispers._

_ "Alright?"_

_ "Okay." _

_ "So do you still wanna marry a girl like me someday?" Santana's eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat until Rachel lets out a small giggle. "I'm just kidding Santana. Don't have a heart attack."_

_ "Oh please, like I would ever want to marry someone as annoying as you," she says but Rachel isn't convinced. _

_ "I'll believe it when I see it."_

*End Flashback*

"See, I told you that you kissed me first," Santana says, dropping her hands to Rachel's sides and tickling her.

"Hey, stop that," Rachel squeals before swatting her lover's hands away. Santana laughs but concedes by placing them on the singer's hips.

"My memory may be was slippin' a bit sweetheart bout who kissed who but not about you jumping me on the couch." Rachel blushes.

"Okay. That might have been true."

"Of course it's true. 'Cause you can't keep your hands off of me. Never have baby."

"Oh please. Miss 'can't we just find an empty book stack to get our macks on'."

"What? Don't act like you didn't like sneaking around my library like it wasn't hella fun."

"Yeah it was but still. My point is that you are the insatiable one. Not me."

"And you enjoy every minute of my undying lust and need to touch you."

"Completely." Santana smirks which causes Rachel to smile. 'Damn this woman and her sexy ass smile' Rachel thinks before leaning her head down to place a soft, slow kiss on the Latina's lips. A few moments pass and Rachel pulls away, giving just enough space between their lips to breathe and speak. "So take out."

"Fuck take out. I don't want that damn pizza anymore. I just want you." She leans up and places wet kisses along Rachel's neck and jaw line.

"You alwa…you always…oh God…you always want me," Rachel says between moans.

"And I will," **Kiss** "for the rest," **Kiss** "of my life." She pauses. "Or yours. Well who ever doesn't get killed by the other first because I'm pretty sure that one of us will end up killing the other and then,"

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Shudup."

"Yes Mrs. Lopez." Rachel smiles wide before pressing her body down further into her fiancé and kissing her with the same need and passion as she did that night in the lounge. And how she plans to kiss her for the rest of their lives together.

* * *

><p><strong>Well there you have it. Hope you liked it. I plan to update real soon and as always; don't forget to review. Till next time. Happy Black History Month and Adios.<strong>


	6. Are we really fighting over cereal?

**Sorry it's been a LONG while since I updated this story but I've been trying to focus on my other one (which is hard enough to do while trying to graduate college). Anyway, thanks for being patient and for all the reviews and alerts. You guys are the best. So, I wrote this one a while back and wanted to get this out before I took a break from this to focus on one story from now on. I will come back to this one when i get the chance. Fear not. So for right now, enjoy and don't forget to review.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but I do have a box of Trix cereal that I claim as mine :)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Who buys the milk? What is the most trivial thing they have fought over?<p>

"So, how's life being engaged to the one Miss Rachel Berry?" Mercedes asks Santana as they push carts side by side down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

"It's okay," Santana says, scanning the cereals carefully and examining them for the price and the highest sugar content. The more sugar; the better.

"Just okay? I thought you'd say it's amazing or terrifying or something along those lines but just 'okay'? What's up girl?"

"Nothing is up. I love Rachel and we're getting married. So life is pretty fucking good." Santana reaches up to the top shelf, pulls down a box of Special K (for Rachel) and throws it into her cart. Sensing something wrong, Mercedes stops her cart, crosses her arms across her chest and waits. "Girl. Stop." The Latina stops her cart abruptly and turns to face the black woman with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Santana ask curiously.

"You need to stop lyin'. Something is up and I'm like the closest thing you have to a best friend here, so spill," Mercedes commands. Santana sighs and walks back to where her friend has stopped.

"I hate that you know me so well," she says.

"Well Brittany isn't the only one who spent time with you back in the day. Troubletones for life, remember?" Mercedes points out.

"Yeah. And I still have the tattoo to prove it," Santana says, revealing the tattooed calligraphy on her left wrist.

"Exactly. So what's going on girl?"

"Rachel started wedding planning."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Dear God."

"Right."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. Me too."

"Well you did propose to one of the most neurotic perfectionist women in the entire world."

"Yeah, I know. I must seriously be batshit crazy to want to put up with that midget for the rest of my life."

"I told you that when you started dating her." Santana laughs. "I specifically said that 'even though she talks less and dresses better, doesn't mean that she's still not Rachel Berry'."

"True."

"And what did you say?"

" 'That it didn't matter because she was a good kisser'," Santana says laughing.

"Exactly. Pussy whipped from day one. Now you're stuck."

"Wanky."

"Oh shut up," Mercedes pushes the laughing woman by the shoulder.

"Whatever. But," just then, Santana feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket. She smiles when she looks at the caller id. "Hey Lil' D," she answers.

_"Hey baby, how's shoppin' with 'Cedes?"_

"Fine. Just shoppin' and chattin'."

_"Chattin' about what?"_

"Girl stuff, baby. You wouldn't be interested."

_"Oh haha,"_ Rachel replies sarcastically. _"But seriously, I called because I need you to do me a favor. Well, actually, more like a favor for you."_

"Depends on what it is."

_"Well since you're already at the store, can you pick up some milk?"_

"But you don't drink milk sweetheart."

_"No, but you do."_

"But I bought a carton yesterday that was still there when I left this afternoon."

_"Well Mike and Noah stopped by after you left and both had a craving for your disgusting Trix cereal."_ Suddenly Santana stops and Mercedes nearly crashes into her cart.

"What the hell?" Mercedes says.

"Wait. You let those jackasses eat **MY** cereal?" Santana growls.

"San, honey, please calm down. It's not that serious," Rachel says carefully.

"Calm down? Calm the fuck down? No. This is very fucking serious. What I have I told you about giving those assholes my food?" Mercedes pushes her cart around the irate Latina.

"Girl, you really gotta lower you voice. Snix is attracting some very unwanted attention right now," she says putting one hand on the Latina's shoulder.

_"Listen to Mercedes,"_ Rachel says through the phone. _"No need to create a disturbance and get kicked out of yet another grocery store."_

"**One time!** One fucking time I got kicked out of Wal Mart for yelling at one of the workers and all of a sudden, I'm a disturbance? Like what the fuck?" Mercedes looks up and down the aisle at the staring shoppers and while she listens to her best friend continue to rant about the important of Trix and how sacred it is or whatever, she starts to plot the best course of action needed to either pacify the woman or at least get her out of the store before they're both thrown out._ "San, it's only cereal,"_ Rachel tries rationalizing with her fiancé but the other woman isn't hearing it.

"No, it's not just cereal. It's the principle," Santana argues.

_"What principle?"_

"It's the principle behind the fact that I always tell you not to let anyone eat my food, especially my cereal, without my permission but do you fucking listen? No."

_"Are you seriously upset right now?"_

"Yes, I'm fucking upset right now!"

_"About cereal?"_ Rachel questions.

"Yes. But no."

_"Oh of course not. It's the principle of the thing that just happens to be about cereal."_ Santana huffs and rolls her eyes.

"Are you mocking me right now."

_"Oh I'm totally mocking you right now."_

"You know what. That's fine. Whatever."

_"San. Come on. Whatever is what you say when you're mad but don't want to bothered. I don't want you to be mad."_

"Well too late for that babe. So I'll get me some more milk and apparently some more goddamn cereal. Bye Berry."

_"But San…"_ Santana hangs up the phone abruptly. She groans and angrily pushes her cart down the aisle past Mercedes and towards the milk section.

"Uh Satan," Mercedes says cautiously approaching the Latina.

"Wheezy. Not now," Santana replies through gritted teeth. The black woman puts her hands up in surrender. No sense rationalizing with an irrational person.

* * *

><p>After dropping Mercedes off, Santana made her way home. She was still upset about the cereal-milk thing and honestly, she doesn't know why. Like seriously, it is just cereal and milk and when ever she visited Puck and Mike, she always stole their food. So why be mad that they did the same thing? And more importantly, why be mad at Rachel?<p>

* * *

><p>Upon entering their condo, Santana throws her coat across the living room onto the couch, tosses her keys into the dish by the door and shuffles into the kitchen. So far, no Rachel and that kind of scares the Latina. The minute she hung up on her fiancé, Santana regretted it. She still doesn't know why she got so upset over something so trivial. Like seriously? Cereal? What kind of shit is that? Sure, she and Rachel have had their spats, arguments, fights and temporary break ups. Have you met the pair? Both strong willed, opinionated, passionate and often times; incredibly stubborn. But cereal? Really?<p>

The Latina unpacks the three boxes of Trix cereal, setting them down on the kitchen table and puts the gallon of skim milk in the fridge before tossing the empty plastic bags in the cabinet under the sink. Still no sight or sound of the little diva. Oh yeah, Santana has really stepped in it this time. All her life, she's had temper and most of the time, it was out of control. But as she got older, she found it easier to reign in Snix for the sake of her job and her relationship. But of course, merely weeks after asking the love of her life to spend eternity with her, Snix has to come back on the bitchtown express with mouth a'blazin'. Taking a seat down at the table, she runs a hand through raven locks and sighs. "I am such an ass," she thinks aloud.

"Yes you are." Santana looks up and sees her fiancé standing in the doorway of the kitchen dressed in a pink robe and slippers. She doesn't look upset or sad or anything like that. To honest, she looks almost amused. "But I still love your stubborn, irrational ass. For reasons beyond comprehension," Rachel says, playing with the belt of her robe. Santana springs up from the chair and walks over to meet the smaller brunette in the doorway. "Come here," she says, opening up her arms to invite the other woman into her embrace. The little diva gives her a small smile, accepts the invitation, steps forward and allows the Latina to wrap her arms around her neck while she wraps her arms around the taller woman's waist. For a few minutes, the couple stands in the doorway, pressed tight against each other, making no sound; saying no words. Just listening to the sound of their combined breaths. Just feeling each other's heart beats through their chests. Just existing together in the same space.

Santana is the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," she apologizes, leaning back slightly to look into the diva's brown eyes. "It was stupid and uncalled for and fucked up and I hope that you're not mad at me." Rachel smiles. That's a good sign. To be honest, Rachel can't believe that the woman in front of her practically pleading for her forgiveness is the same girl who never cared for anyone's feelings and never ever apologized. "San, I'm not mad," she says, "Actually, it's kind of funny."

"Funny? Why the hell is it funny that I went into bitch mode in 2.5 seconds flat over fuckin' cereal?"

"It's funny that you would think that I would be mad at that." Santana looks at her curiously. "I mean yeah, I was a little irritated at you yelling at me but I haven't been the nicest these last couple of weeks with all my yelling about your indifference towards all things involving the wedding."

"But it was just plates," Santana points out.

"And it was just cereal. So now we're square," Rachel argues. Santana sighs and rests her forehead on Rachel's.

"Clearly we need to work on the way we talk to each other. We need to stop yelling if we want this thing to work for the long haul," she says softly.

"And clearly we need to talk about things before they get to a yelling point. Deal?" Rachel adds rubbing the small of Santana's back over her shirt.

"Deal." Leaning down slightly, Santana captures the little diva's lips for a slow, sensual kiss. "Te amo," Santana whispers when they pull apart.

"Te amo también, mi amor," Rachel replies with a smirk.

"Someone's been working on their Spanish," Santana says grinning.

"Yup. Wanna hear more?"

"Of course."

"Usted es mi cuerpo. Mi corazón. Mi alma. Mi todo." Santana doesn't even bother to hide the ridiculously wide smile that appears on her face. See this is why Spanish is the language of passionate love because hearing Rachel say those things to her, not just at all but in Spanish has her all hot and bothered in less than 5 seconds. Yup, definitely time to move this little exchange elsewhere before she takes Rachel right on the kitchen table. Not like it hasn't been done before but she wants some comfort after walking around the store all day. "Rachel, you know making up after a fight or argument isn't complete without,"

"Mind-blowing make up sex?" Rachel finishes her statement for her.

"Totally."

"I was waiting for you to say that," Rachel says with a sly grin. "While you were out being unnecessarily mad at me," Santana rolls her eyes, "I went out and picked up a little something for you as my way of apologizing for allowing the boys to eat your silly kid's cereal."

"Oh is that so?" Rachel takes a step back out the Latina's embrace and nods. "Okay, so what and where is it?" Santana asks, looking around the condo with her eyes. Rachel giggles before untying the belt and opening her robe.

"Right here, you ass," she says putting her hands on her hips. Santana brings her eyes back to the diva and her mouth drops.

"Trix pajamas?" she asks, scanning the tiny body in front of her clad in a Trix cereal tank top and matching boy shorts.

"I figured that since you love Trix so much."

"So, so, so, so, so much," Santana says, mouth quickly going dry. She reaches out to touch Rachel but the smaller woman steps out of reach.

"First, am I forgiven since I've already forgiven you for your behavior?"

"So forgiven," Santana says in a breathy exhale.

"Awesome." Rachel then takes a hold of the gawking Latina's hand and slowly leads her out of the kitchen and towards their bedroom.

"Finally, some Trix I can have all to myself," Santana says, kicking the door to their room closed.

"Well, when were you planning on eating it?" Rachel says turning around to face Santana with lust filled eyes and a smirk and damn, does Santana find it sexy as hell.

Spanish. Smirking. Obvious sexual innuendos. Yup. Her parents were right. The longer they spend together; the more they start act like each other. Like she can't even count the times she's told someone off without using one curse word and how many times she's actually enjoyed going to the theater.

But the blending of personalities isn't all that bad because it seems like everything Rachel's taken from Santana has improved their sex life. Oh yeah. Marriage is going to be fun. "Estrella," Santana says as Rachel's starts to undo the button on her jeans.

"Yes love."

"Remind me later to kick boy Chang and Puck's assess for eating my cereal and using my fucking milk."

"Noted. Not less talking and more helping me out of this." Santana smiles and quickly whips the Trix tank top up and off. Taking in the little diva's bare chest, she can't help but say, "And who said that Trix are just for kids?"

* * *

><p><strong>If you want to take a look at my other story that I will be working on from now on, it's called "the Best thing I never knew I needed". Give it a read if you like and tell me what you think. <strong>


	7. What's saved on Netflix?

**Hellloooo allll! Anyone still with me on this one? I sure hope so. First of all, I'd like to apologize for taking so long to update. I was busy with school, then a bunch of personal stuff happened so I wasn't really in the most jovial of moods to write a lot. But everything seems to have calmed and BOOM! inspiration. I thought of this little nugget yesterday and just had to write it down. So if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. Hope you enjoy.**

**And as always, please review :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. And yes I believe Netflix will still exist like 8 years from now. I picture it holding all of the old movies from nowadays. Sort of like VHS now.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: who has a season pass on their DVRWho controls the Netflix queue

"So how's the missus doing?" Rachel looks up from her script at the fair skinned man sitting on the loveseat across from the couch she's on. Today is Rachel's day off. The first full one since New Year's nearly 2 months ago. And since Santana had to work, she decided to call up her best gay guy friend for brunch and some much needed TLC at her apartment. Nestled in the corner of the living room sofa in grey sweatpants, a pink camisole with a messy ponytail on her head, Rachel answers, "She's doing pretty good. She's been tired lately because of this big murder trial she's been working on but besides that, she's great."

"Oh I heard about that trial. Some mafia guy trying to get off for murder, right?" Kurt asks getting up and walking carefully, past the various piles of clothing, papers, books and other miscellaneous items on the floor, to the kitchen.

"I believe so."

"And she's trying to prove that he did?" He opens the fridge, grabs a water bottle, closes the fridge and returns to the loveseat in the living room.

"Yes. Crazy huh? But she knows this case in and out. So I'm sure she'll do fine."

"Yeah. But if there's anyone out there that dares to take on one of New York's most notorious gang lords, it's Snix." Rachel puts the script down on the seat cushion next to her and grins.

"Snix, huh? Haven't heard that one in while. Not since the last time when we were back in Lima visiting her parents and then that night we were…and then…she was…and I said-"she stops herself and after looking aimlessly about the room, smirks.

"You're blushing," Kurt points out. Slapping her hands on her face to cover her increasingly burning cheeks, Rachel turns her away.

"No I'm not," she lies.

"Yes you are." He pauses and his eyes get big before closing and throwing his head back dramatically. "Ew. I just got it." Rachel just smiles and starts to laugh. "How many times have I told you not to mention your sexual relations with Satan?"

"I didn't mention it. You just assumed that's what I was smiling about."

"Oh please. Like it would be anything else. I really don't need to know what goes down in your bedroom."

"Usually Santana," Rachel says under her breath.

"What was that?" Kurt asks quickly.

"Nothing."

"Well anyway, I don't want to know about anything that happens in the bedroom. Or the living room. Or the kitchen or anywhere else you two horny women decide to defile each other." Rachel continues to laugh.

"Fine. Fine. I won't ever mention-"

"Or imply."

"Or imply anything to do with my AMAZING, mind-blowing sex life with my amazingly talented and brilliantly dexterous fiancé while you're around," Rachel says with a wicked grin.

"You did that on purpose," Kurt complains, holding his stomach, faking sickness.

"Yup. Sure did."

"Not fair. Whatever. But that's all I ask."

"You can be such prude sometimes."

"Look. Just because I don't want to know doesn't make me a prude. You have been spending too much time with Satan."

"Well she **is** my fiancé. And we have been together for 6 sum years so you'd assume some of our quirks and eccentricities would rub off on each other."

"And I'm sure you both like the **rubbing off** on each other part." Rachel burst out laughing.

"See, that was you that time." Kurt rolls his eyes and gets up from the seat again.

"Whatever little star. I'm hungry again. Got anything to eat in this place?"

"You were in the refrigerator earlier. Shouldn't you know?" Rachel picks up her script for Rent and starts reading over her lines for Maureen again. There's only one week left until the opening night and even though she had her lines memorized about a week after she got the original script, the director decided to make some last minute changes that she still has yet to memorize.

"Yes. I was but all I saw were Coronas-"

"Santana's."

"I figured. But there's also some apples. Some soy milk and some regular milk." Rachel giggles.

"Don't even want to go back down that road." Rachel stops and grins again. "Although that little fight did end quite nicely."

"**Oh. My. God**," Kurt says rolling his eyes again. He then trudges through the mass on the floor again on his way to the kitchen. "You two are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love," Rachel comments, feeling the usual flutter in her stomach when thinking about her fiancé. It's that heart pounding, body warming, smile inducing feelings that comes along with the intense pull in her stomach when she realizes that Santana isn't actually near her.

God she misses Santana.

#####

Later in the evening, after the pair got lunch from Rachel's favorite vegan restaurant, the pair returned to her condo for some wine and crash time on the couch.

"So, do you want to watch something?" Kurt asks picking up the remote control from the end table next to the sofa. Rachel, on the opposite end of the sofa, grabs her glass of Chardonnay, swirls it around a bit but before taking a sip, "Sure. But I don't want to watch anything in particular so you pick something."

"Okay. So how about we just watch some TV until your lady love gets here and kicks me out?"

"She won't kick you out."

"Yes. She will. She always does. But it's alright. I still have that Dolce bag of hers at my house she left last week so she better tread lightly," Kurt threatens.

"I'll be sure to inform her."

"Will do. Now do you have anything saved on your DVR or Netflix? Because I don't feel like dealing with commercials right now."

"I'm not sure." Rachel takes a sip. " 'Tana usually saves stuff considering she's the one who watches the most TV. I just watch DVDs mostly."

"So if I look at this, it will be like taking a peek into Satan's head?" Rachel nods.

"I guess. Basically," she says.

"Interesting." Kurt puts his thumb on the Netflix button on the remote but before pressing it, he looks over at Rachel with a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. "Before I start scrolling through Santana's entertainment archive, or what I will call 'Santana's box', should I be concerned?" Rachel looks at him trying to spot any playfulness in his face but he's dead serious. Which makes her laugh.

"No Kurt. I'm pretty sure it's safe," she reassures with at smile.

"Well this is Satan we're talking about. She can be a bit of a pervert at times." Rachel grimaces but smiles.

"You're right. You should probably proceed with caution."

"Okay. Because I don't know about you sapphic lovers. There might be the seasons of the L word or something like that."

"We have all of the DVDs in our bedroom so no need for Netflix on that one," Rachel says grinning. Kurt glares at her.

"Sad." Rachel chuckles. "Just sad. Anyway, let's take a look."

Turning on the TV and opening the Netflix queue, Kurt instantly starts laughing. "What?" Rachel asks, looking over at the laughing man. Instead of answering, he just keeps laughing. Like that head thrown back, eyes watering, knee slapping, room echoing kind of laughter. "What the hell is so damn funny?"

"Wh-who wo-wo-would've guessed," he says in between laughs.

"Who would've guessed what?" Rachel inquires.

"Jersey Shore reruns?" he continues scrolling down the page. "All of the Real Housewives series?"

"Santana like reality shows," Rachel admits with a shrug. "Well, not all of them but most of them."

"All the Harry Potter and Star Wars movies?" Kurt looks at her incredulously.

"She likes sci-fi. Apparently she and her dad used to watch the Star Wars series when she was a kid." Rachel explains. "Anymore questions?"

"Just one more little miss explanation lady. Explain why Santana has an assortment of musicals in her Netflix queue?"

"What?" Rachel puts her glass down on the floor and leans forward to get a closer look. Kurt is right. Chicago. Rent. West Side Story. Grease. The Wiz. The Wizard of Oz. Hairspray. Dreamgirls. Sparkle. There are so many musicals saved that she's pretty sure it almost puts her collection to shame.

"Judging by your expression, I'm guessing you didn't know about this treasure trove of musical films?" Kurt ask continuing to scroll, revealing musical after musical after musical.

"Not one clue," Rachel says, eyes still glued to the moving TV screen.

"Well it looks like your future permanent plus 1 is a secret musical junkie," Kurt comments.

"That explains why when I was running lines for Rent, she barely looked at the script. Now I've seen that movie a bunch of times but she's rarely been with me." She thinks back to a few nights ago when she and Santana were reviewing the party scene with Rachel as Maureen and Santana as Joanne.

"Oh this is glorious. I'm so going to have to tease her about this one." This tears Rachel's attention away from the TV screen.

"Oh please no," she begs. "With the stress of planning our wedding and with the case and everything, she really doesn't need you badgering her about this."

"But why not?" Kurt whines. "She always gets on us for liking musicals and musical theater and yet she secretly loves them? This is black mailing gold."

"You like to stay on her bad side, don't you?"

"I'm as big of a bitch as she is. So yes." Kurt says, flipping his neatly quaffed hair.

"Well," but before Rachel can finish her statement, the pair hears the sounds of keys at the front door.

"She's he-e-e-e-reeee," Kurt says like the girl from Poltergeist.

"Shut up!" Rachel warns. And sure enough, a tired looking Santana appears through the door. Briefcase in one hand, navy blue suit jacket in the other, Santana barely lifts her head to see the pair sitting on the couch in the room. "Ba-a-a-aby," she whines kicking off her Louis Vuitton pumps against the door and dropping both the jacket and briefcase on the floor. "Baby, where are you?"

"Right here sweetie," Rachel says, getting up from the couch and walking to the door to meet her fiancé.

"Oh Rach. I had the day from hell," Santana groans, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"Aww." The shorter woman puts her hands on Santana's shoulders, gently massaging the tight muscles. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not really. I just want you to make me feel better." She turns her head slightly and starts placing gentle kisses on Rachel's neck. Rachel, totally forgetting about her guest, melts into Santana's warm, sweet smelling body. Kurt, looking slightly embarrassed by the sight in front of him, eyes Rachel for some help out of this awkward situation.

"Uh…uh…San…oh God," she finds it very hard to focus on speaking with hot lips burning marking into her neck, hitting the particular spots that Santana knows drives her wild.

"Mmmmm," Santana mumbles, the vibrations on Rachel's neck sending chills down her spine and warm moisture straight to her center. "Um…uh…" she tries again but when Santana slides her camisole off her left shoulder and starts to nibble on her collar bone, Rachel loses it. Kurt or no Kurt, she wants Santana. And she wants her now.

Sensing a NC-17 scene developing, Kurt gets up from the couch and clears his throat.

No response.

Just the sound of wet kisses moving on bare flesh and moans saying that whatever Santana is doing; she is doing it well.

Okay, next and final attempt.

"Okay, I guess that's my queue," he yells loud enough for both the women to pull away quickly, flushed and panting.

"**WHAT THE FUCK?**" Santana shouts, turning to spot the smug faced man standing uncomfortably in her living room. "Hummel? What the fuck are you doing in my place?"

"Well I was spending a nice, quiet evening in with my best friend until yo-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupts. "Did you think that me asking meant that I really cared?"

"Well,"

"Get the hell out."

"Santana!" Rachel says.

"What?" Santana asks shrugging her shoulders.

"Be nice," Rachel commands.

"Too late to be nice." Directing her attention back to Kurt. "Now get the fuck out of my crib Lady Hummel afores I ends you cause I gots to be getting' my macks on with my woman."

"And here I thought law school would have improved your vocabulary."

"Oh it has. And I would like your arrogant, pretentious, pompous, outré ass out of my condo." Kurt looks at her wide eyed, stunned by her diction. Rachel looks at the smirking Latina, equally stunned but definitely 100 times more turned on. "You see Pixie Prince, just because I choose not to use it all the time, doesn't mean I don't got it."

"Dually noted."

"Kurt?" Rachel says, walking to the coat hanger by the door.

"Yeah Rach."

"Get out," she commands, taking his suit jacket off of the coat rack and tossing it to him. Kurt catches it with his chest.

"Well then. Later lady," he slings his suit jacket over his forearm, picks up his Civil War style hat and walks to the door. "And the tramp," he says before exiting.

As soon as the door closes, Rachel grabs Santana by the back of her neck and pulls her into a toe-curling, mind wiping, lascivious kiss.

"You have any idea how much I love when you use that Grade A vocabulary?" Rachel husks as they pull apart.

"Of course I do." Santana whispers in her ear before taking hold of the lobe in between her teeth and gently tugging. Rachel shivers and pulls Santana into another bruising kiss that leaves them both flushed and panting. "Why do you think I use it so often?"

"Well don't stop. So you said you had one hell of a day?" Rachel asks undoing the buttons on Santana's white blouse, one by one; teasingly slow. Santana watches as the smaller woman's fingers make their way down her torso. Eyes dark and mouth dry, she answers, "Yeah. I did say something like that."

"Are you still tired?" Rachel finishes undoing the buttons and pushes the shirt off of Santana's shoulders, revealing the black bra underneath.

"Not so much now," Santana says, biting her bottom lip, as Rachel takes her hand and starts to lead her to their bedroom.

"Well good because you're in for one hell of a night."

"Oh sweet baby Jesus."


End file.
